


Disenchantment

by theroaringseas



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: M/M, grantaire's pov but give it a chance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7032274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroaringseas/pseuds/theroaringseas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire & Enjolras argue over coming out in the 1800's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disenchantment

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, I just wanted angst.

“It was _wrong,_ ” he said with eluding eyes. He was deliberately diverting my gaze. It passed off as dismissive and resolute that he couldn’t stand to look me in the face meanwhile saying this poor, transparent lie. “ _I_ was wrong. I don’t know if I must’ve said something dubious or misinterpreted or how you got the implication that I” He gulped, a pause I dreaded in this as though nothing else could go wrong.

“You regret it?” I said for what it was but Enjolras was still dancing around the question like ballet, only just warily.

“Yes. I do.” He breathed and whispered the next, “does anyone know? Marius?”

“No!” I raised my voice which made the both of us flinch. Did he think I’m that kind of man? That I would stoop so low? “I didn’t tell Marius, or anyone for that matter.” The look of relief he gave pissed me off, _(did it bother him that much?)_ I felt my back stiffen and tense.

 _“_ Great...” Enjolras mumbled as though Atlas lifted the weight of heaven off his mind. I bore him a look of weary disenchantment. He noticed and continued to explain. “It would be a shame if I were to be arrested for anything other than what I stand for.”

“And you don’t stand for this?”

“For what?”

“ _Some_ might say love.” I teased and Enjolras gagged.

“Others might say _lust_.” And it was my turn to grimace.

“You can’t go parading around like some self-righteous priest. _God,_ Enjolras, this morning I had to think long and hard about whether or not last night was a dream.” He shifted a bit at my words.

“Do you have dreams like this often?”

 _"Yes."_ I snorted, “In them, you are much more compliant.” Irate, he started off in the right direction: away from me. I followed after his back, my voice bellowing louder and louder, dryads giggling in the breeze.

“I thought you were all for equality! You’ve spent months preaching for the poor, for the broken, for the wrongs done to these people! Your men mock your virginity! And you deny the single fact that you are just like them.“ Then, finally, he snapped, turning in rage.

“I am _nothing_ like those drunkards you call friends, they are not _my_ men, and _you-!”_ He tone cracked as it rose a pitch. The next few words shook me as he muttered, “... you disgust me.” Like shards of glass.

“But _equality?_ ” I tempted in a sweet, cloying voice.

“Economic equality! N-not that! There are larger matters at place, matters of life or death, and to be quite frank, this world is not ready for that kind of change yet... Social equality is a more bloody battle.”

“That’s new. Is your ambition wearing you thin? What happened to: _‘There’s nothing on earth we cannot achieve!’_ ”

“You know how these men will react. They will not stand to listen before they chant for my head under the guillotine and if not that, men will not follow a man like me even, if they knew.”

“Oh you wound me deeply.” I said with what was probably a sardonic countenance. Enjolras looked up at me. Unblinking, as if searching for something, and when he could not find it, his disappointed eyes anchored down to the green earth at our feet. This is where his antipathy for me stemmed from. Our youth fast fading. For a moment, I saw what a life with him could've been like. It involved conversations like this: morality, philosophy, ethics, even abstract concepts about identity and being. “What is it?” I felt my voice hollow, and regretted the question as soon as it escaped from my mouth.

“They’d hang us if they knew." His golden eyebrows knitted close together, eyes downcast. "That’s why this isn’t a conversation. Don’t make it one. It never happened.”

“You know that this little rebellion you’ve stirred up is considered treason. It’s the same punishment. Death. Does it really matter how you go down?”

“Yes." So clear and concise. "If I go down for anything, it’s not going to be _because I slept with you.”_

“I thought that never happened.” I was smirking now, which could become synonymous with hiding. He didn't see it that way.

“What’s with you?” He cursed. “It’s not enough you have to make a mockery of me at meetings. Do you really have to do this?” He seethed. I wouldn’t be surprised if by next week he completely represses the memory. Then again, I don’t want him to either.

“I’m not mocking you _._ I’m serious.”

“Serious?” With that doubt.

“Genuine.” He was searching again. Enjolras sighed, heavily.

“It’s a sin against God.”

“And since when did you start going to Church? Enlighten me.”

“Grantaire…”

“Isn’t that contradicting? You _loathe_ hypocrites. Ha… You’re the one who dares to take down the monarchy with your own bare hands. _Scorn divine right, will you, but draw the line at this._ Now I see where you take from your father“

“NO ONE WILL FOLLOW ME GRANTAIRE!” He broke. Hysterical. “That's what my father said when I began this! Men don’t follow men who are ruled over, who act like women. It’s fucked up, yes. But it’s the norm! _It’s_ _humiliating._ So would you  _please stop._ _”_

“You think so?" _Truly?_

“Yes! And you don’t because you have nothing left to lose.”

I didn’t say anymore, wanted nothing more than to pummel him to the ground. I did have something to lose and if I lost it, I’d go down on my knees and pray. You say no one would follow you. _Egocentric ass,_ I’d follow you into hell if you asked me to.


End file.
